Ocean of Noise
by Petroica traversi
Summary: Christophe always does whatever Gregory tells him to do. Even if it breaks his heart.


Hey guuuys, miss me? I was completely overwhelmed by my SPBB project, which is finally finished, save for a few revisions I need to do. But I'm really happy with it, and I think you guys will like it a lot. It probably won't be online until the end of the month, but in the meantime, here's a little one-shot, dedicated to the lovely, delightful Alba.

And yes, I will continue my other stories ASAP. I promise. 3

X

It all started out innocently enough. Gregory was complaining, as usual, about whichever girl he was dating at the moment. He was only fourteen, but was extremely popular amongst the girls at the private Catholic school which they attended. Christophe was listening as he always did, not because he cared about Gregory's love life, because he most certainly did not, but simply because that's what he did. When Gregory spoke, he listened.

"I simply cannot believe what a bad kisser that girl is," Gregory was saying, "It's like she was trying to eat my face or something."

Christophe just grunted at this, not looking up from the map he was studying, but the prolonged silence he received told him that Gregory probably wanted a real answer.

"Maybe you are ze bad kisser, no?" he suggested, knowing how insulted his partner would be, "You complained about ze last girl, too."

Gregory scoffed at this, giving Christophe a haughty, but very calculating look.

"I am an excellent kisser," he said, staring Christophe down despite the fact that he was sprawled across his bed, relaxing against his excessive pillows, "Come over here."

When Gregory told him to do something, he did. So he got up from the desk, and shuffled over to to bed, where Gregory patted the mattress beside him.

"Here," he said, as if he was speaking to a dog. Christophe obeyed him, sitting carefully upon the mattress. He always felt too dirty to sit upon Gregory's bed, afraid that his mother or the maid or whoever might find some errant bits of dirt upon the bedspread, and forbid him from visiting anymore. Gregory had always insisted that this would never happen, and frankly Christophe was more afraid of him than he was of anyone's mother, so he took his word for it.

"Kiss me," Gregory said, not bothering to sit up.

"Wh... what?" Christophe sputtered.

"You heard me. I want to show you that I'm not a bad kisser."

Gregory looked calm, but Christophe's heart was racing in his chest. He'd been attracted to the blonde boy for as long as he could remember, but he never thought he'd get a chance to make a move.

"I... eh... I 'ave never kissed anyone," Christophe said, feeling his face heat up as the words left his mouth.

"Oh, good, then. I can teach you," Gregory replied, reaching up to grasp Christophe's jaw, and pulling him down against him.

Christophe could feel the warm air of Gregory's breath against his face as he leaned in, but stopped a few inches away, hesitating. He was far too nervous to do this, but when Gregory said his name in a very stern tone, he knew he had to.

Gregory's lips felt soft against his, but he only touched his own lips to them very quickly before pulling away. Gregory sighed.

"You have to try, at least," he said.

"I 'ave never done zis before!" Christophe snapped, "I don't know what I am doing!"

"Fine," Gregory said, gripping Christophe's shoulders and flipping him onto his back. He climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and leaning over him.

"I'll just take the lead, then," he said, licking his lips.

Gregory pressed his mouth firmly against Christophe's, pushing his tongue inside when his lips parted in surprise. It was very good, Christophe thought, but then, he had nothing to compare it to, and he was probably more than a little biased. He responded as best he could, and before long he and Gregory were both moaning against each others' mouths and writhing together on the bed. Gregory didn't seem to mind Christophe's hands exploring the shapes of his body, and he simply moaned as Christophe gripped his hips, pulling him tight against him so that their erections were rubbing together through their clothing. Just as Christophe thought he might come in his pants, Gregory abruptly pulled off him, climbing off the bed and staring down at Christophe with a vaguely mean expression on his face.

"I told you I was a good kisser," he said, straightening his trousers and walking out of the room.

Christophe didn't move from the bed, just laid there breathless, wondering what the hell had just happened.

When Gregory returned, he acted as if nothing unusual had just taken place, and he shooed Christophe off his bed, so that he might resume his lounging alone. Taking his cue, Christophe ignored the fact that he'd just had the most thrilling experience of his life, and the fact that he was still painfully hard, and went back to studying his map. They didn't speak of the incident for nearly three years.

X

Gregory never stopped dating girls, and complaining to Christophe about them. As time went on, it seemed the more intimate he became with them, the more dissatisfied he was. He complained when he got his first blow job. He complained when he lost his virginity. The girls who performed these acts with him always did something to annoy him or turn him off in some way, and all his subsequent lovers received the same nit-picky treatment.

Christophe had some theories as to why Gregory couldn't be satisfied by any of the girls he'd been with, but he kept those thoughts to himself. After all, it was not his place to give Gregory advice. His job was simply to listen, and follow orders. Even when those orders were to sodomize his best friend.

"I want to try anal sex," Gregory had said, after bitching about his most recent lay.  
>"Uh, ok?" Christophe said, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove them home from school.<p>

"With you," Gregory clarified, and Christophe stared at him incredulously.

"You want to fuck me in ze ass?" he asked, and Gregory sighed, perhaps at his crudeness.

"No, Christophe. I would like for you to fuck me."

Christophe choked on nothing in particular, and had to pull over onto the side of the road, before he completely lost his concentration and crashed his truck.

"What ze 'ell are you talking about?" he yelled, angry that Gregory would make fun of him, or whatever the hell he was doing by asking such a thing.

"I think I might be gay, Christophe," Gregory answered primly, unaffected by Christophe's outburst, "and I'd like to know for sure. I don't trust anyone else to try this with them, so I'm asking you."

"What makes you think I want to 'ave sex with you?" Christophe growled out, wounded that Gregory wanted use him in such a way.

"Oh, please. I've seen the way you look at me. I'm not stupid. I remember how much you liked it when we kissed, and I know you want to fuck me. So, here's your golden opportunity."

He wanted to deny it so badly. He wanted to tell Gregory that he wasn't a whore, and he wasn't just going to give his virginity up to the first person who offered to have sex with him (and Gregory was, indeed, the first person who offered). But he couldn't. He would do whatever Gregory told him to do, and Gregory knew that. So he pulled simply pulled back onto the road, and drove to Gregory's house, where he followed him up to his bedroom.

It was slow going, at first. Apparently Gregory had done a good deal of research on the subject, and instructed him as they went along, but Christophe was so nervous that his hands were shaking, and he was terrified of hurting his partner. Gregory seemed to be enjoying the things that were being done to him, especially when Christophe moved his fingers within him, but he was clearly becoming impatient with Christophe's tenderness.

"I'm not made of glass, you know," Gregory snapped, as Christophe gently pushed his dick in, annoyed by the fact that he had to use a condom, but also glad for it, because he thought it might make him last longer.

It didn't. With Gregory moaning underneath him and enthusiastically clawing at his back, it was only a minute or so before he came, completely unable to enjoy his climax because he was so self-conscious about what little staying power he'd had.

Gregory gave an irritated huff, as Christophe pulled away, trying to regain his breath.

"Sorry," Christophe muttered, "It's just... that was..."

"Take care of that for me, would you?" Gregory interrupted, gesturing to his dick. It was still hard, angled just above his belly.

Christophe gladly complied, and gave what was possibly the sloppiest blow job in history. Gregory didn't seem to mind how bad it was, because he came within minutes, moaning loudly as his fingers clasped bits of Christophe's hair with an iron grip. Christophe swallowed it all down without hesitation, both because he knew Gregory would be furious if they stained his expensive sheets, and, well, he wanted to anyway.

"Well," Gregory panted when Christophe was finished lapping at him, "Yes. Definitely gay."

He shifted away when Christophe laid near him.

X

It wasn't exclusive by any means. Gregory continued to see girls, much to Christophe's confusion, as it was obvious he didn't enjoy being with them.

What hurt was the fact that he'd also started seeing other men. Still, when he snuck into Christophe's bedroom late at night, or offered up his own after school, Christophe had a hard time saying no, no matter how badly he wanted to. Over time he became more proficient in the finer points of sex, and was so happy when he eventually became able to make Gregory climax simply from penetration alone. Still, it bothered Christophe to think that perhaps he wasn't good enough for Gregory to want to be exclusive. That was all Christophe really wanted.

When Gregory left for Harvard, he apparently gave up all pretenses of heterosexuality, and coupled with any man who came across his path. He'd come home on his breaks and regale Christophe with stories of the men he'd bedded, even as his come was cooling across their chests after a satisfying round of sex.

Christophe never let on how much this bothered him, or how Gregory's ever-increasing appetite for kinky sex worried him.

They'd done everything, from bondage, to fulfilling some rather distressing rape fantasies that Gregory apparently had. He gave all the orders, and he made it clear that sex between them would always go the way he wanted it to, or they would stop. Never once did he let Christophe fuck him tenderly, as he would have liked on occasion, and if Gregory determined the sex was becoming too sentimental or sweet, he'd bark out orders, making Christophe hurt him in some manner, or fuck him so hard that he could barely breathe.

Christophe understood that Gregory liked having control of the situation, and he complied with his demands without complaint, even if they were often overwhelming or unsatisfying for him, personally.

Sure, tying someone up and fucking them hard until they begged you to stop was fun once in a while (even if the person berated you if you actually _did_ stop), but sometimes Christophe wanted to do nothing more than kiss and caress his partner, and hold him in his arms when they were finished. He was never allowed to, though, so he learned to be content with what he could get.

The week after Gregory graduated college (at the top of his class, naturally) he and Christophe moved into a luxurious apartment together, in one of the nicer parts of Denver. They shared a room, and for all intents and purposes were a couple, until the night Gregory discovered Christophe's little secret.

"But of course, you've had your share of lovers, too," Gregory said after finishing up another tale of kinky sex he'd had whilst attending Harvard, "I mean, it isn't as if I'm the only man you've slept with."

Christophe stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering when the hell he'd given Gregory that impression.

"You are, actually," he said, glaring.

"What, really Christophe?" Gregory said, feigning surprise. Christophe could tell he'd brought it up because he'd been wondering, and this was not the response he'd been hoping for.

"Really, Gregory. You're ze only one."

"Surely you've had other offers, though?" Gregory said, looking concerned.

"I 'ave, but I 'ave turned zem all down. You're the only person I 'ave ever wanted," he answered, honestly.

This turned out to be a mistake. The next night Gregory went out without him, and brought a stranger back to their flat.

"I'll be needing the bedroom, dear," he said, pawing unabashedly at the man.

Christophe was furious and humiliated, but he said nothing as they disappeared into the back of the apartment, and soon Gregory's moans and exclamations were loud enough that he could still hear them through the balcony door, as he retreated outside to smoke a cigarette.

Gregory carried on like this for weeks, coming home with a different man every few nights, and locking Christophe out of the bedroom when he'd begin to protest. When he was done with whomever it was that night, he'd kick the poor bastard out, allowing Christophe back into their bedroom.

It was awkward, and hurtful, and really fucking confusing when Gregory, who never let Christophe cuddle him when they'd have sex, would ask Christophe to hold him as they fell asleep.

"I think you love me," Christophe ventured, on one of these nights.

"I assure you, I do not," Gregory said, pulling away from him.

Christophe moved out the next day.

X

He was living in a tiny, shitty apartment, in an area of Denver that was popular with hipsters. He didn't care about them. He didn't care about anyone. For a year he hadn't spoken to anyone except clients, coming and going from his apartment as the jobs demanded, but otherwise keeping to himself. The people in his building knew him as "that scary French man in 2B". They didn't try to make friends with him, which was for the best. He'd only ever had one real friend, and that man had broken his heart. He didn't want to give anyone else the same opportunity. Nobody else was worth it.

He should have been surprised when one day he entered his apartment, only to find Gregory waiting for him there on his ratty sofa. Somehow he wasn't.

"I found you," Gregory declared, looking smug.

"I wasn't exactly 'iding," he replied, pulling off his coat and hanging it on the hook on the wall, "But it seems pretty pathetic that it took you a whole year to find me."

"I wasn't looking the entire time," Gregory said, still looking haughty.

"Of course not. Why are you 'ere now, then? 'ave you run out of strangers to fuck?" Christophe spat, satisfied when Gregory looked like he might lose his composure.

"I was just curious as to how you were getting along," he said smoothly, "Without me, that is. I should have known you'd end up in some filthy hovel, with nothing more than Mountain Dew and a carton of eggs in your fridge."

"I am amused that you think these are signs that I can not take care of myself. I'm sorry I don't live up to your great expectations, but I am doing fine. I don't need you," he lied.

For once in his life, Gregory looked hurt. But Christophe wasn't going to be fooled.

"Well," he continued, "If you are done inspecting my 'hovel' and trying to make me feel bad about myself, maybe you should get ze fuck out and leave me alone."

"I came here to apologize," Gregory mumbled pulling himself to his feet, "But I won't bother if you're going to be a pigheaded arsehole!"

"Yes, and you're doing a great job of it," Christophe shot back.

"Ok, Jesus, alright," Gregory said, holding his hands up, "I'm not very good at this, ok?"

"Obviously, Gregory. You 'urt me, you know," Christophe said.

"I know."

"A lot."

"I _know_, Christophe, I-"

"I'm still in love with you."

Gregory stood there looking lost, and Christophe watched as he mulled over this information.

"You're in love with me?" Gregory asked, as if he couldn't believe it.

"I thought it was obvious, Gregory. But you. You used me for so long."

"No. Christophe, I..."

Christophe glared at him in silence, daring him to deny it.

"I only wanted to be with you," Gregory concluded, finally.

"Bullshit!" Christophe yelled, slamming his hand on the table next to him, "You fucked every god damn man you could! And you made sure I knew about it, Gregory, that was ze worst part!"

"I wanted to make you jealous," he said, looking as though he might cry, "Really, I... I wanted you to really want me, not just do things with me because I told you to. I slept with all those men because I wanted you to fight for me. But you always just accepted it, and I thought for sure that you didn't love me! I thought I was just a convenient lay to you!"

Christophe wanted to shout that Gregory was completely full of shit, but was frozen as tears began to gather in the other man's eyes. Though Gregory was a very convincing actor when he needed to be, in the nearly 20 years in which they'd known each other, Christophe had never once seen him cry.

"And ze fact that I told you I never slept with anyone else... that I only wanted you, that didn't give you some kind of 'int as to 'ow I felt?"

"I thought... well, I thought you were lying. Or that you were simply too lazy to go out and seduce someone new, or that maybe you were just too afraid to cross me. I don't know. I've thought about it a lot since you left, and I couldn't figure out what any of it meant to you. And I was so afraid that you told me you've never been with someone else as some sort of ploy to gain power over me."

"Did you miss me?" Christophe asked.

"Terribly. More than I thought was possible. Please believe me," he said, trying to compose himself, "I... I was afraid. I had such feelings for you, all along, and you never acted as though you cared. So I did whatever I could to push you away, to block you off from the deeper parts of myself. I never wanted to let you have that kind of power over me."

Christophe shook his head, and then crossed the room with uncertain strides, until he was close enough to Gregory to wipe the few tears that had escaped his eyes from his face.

"You are ze one with all ze power," he said, "You always 'ave been. All those things I did, I did because I wanted to make you 'appy."

Gregory watched him for a while, allowing Christophe to pet him, for once.

"This is ridiculous," Gregory said, finally, "I'm so smart, and yet this emotional bullshit is just completely beyond my mental capacity. Christ, I've been so childish."

"I agree," Christophe responded, smiling as Gregory laughed.

"Come home with me, Christophe. This flat is disgusting," he implored, and Christophe was able to read between the lines, knowing exactly what Gregory was still too weak to admit. That he was really sorry. And that he truly did love Christophe, too.

Christophe just laughed, and took Gregory's hand in his, complying with his orders, just as he always did.


End file.
